


Etchings

by KatherineBelle



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Daddy Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Top Steve Rogers, undiscussed kink but they're both into it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24436006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineBelle/pseuds/KatherineBelle
Summary: Steve is rescued from unwanted attention by a handsome stranger, and ends up finding a missing piece of his soul.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 354





	Etchings

Steve is stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Or, to be more accurate, he's stuck between a lunkhead named Kyle and a bar, with no easy exit to be found in the crowd of people around them.

"You've got really nice hands. Artist's hands, you said. I bet you're great with them." Kyle nods for another drink, and Steve makes frantic eye contact with the bartender, but no luck. "You're so pretty, all slim and blonde."

"Look, Kyle, you're nice and all, but--"

"Aw, you think I'm nice."

Fucking... this dumbass.

Normally, Steve wouldn't hesitate to assert himself physically, but there are too many people to start something. Not to mention, he likes this bar and he would like to come back.

Steve is aware he looks like an easy target, like just another twink looking for dick, but that isn't what he's here for. Then again, he doesn't often find what he's looking for, but a man has to keep trying.

"I don't think we want the same things here, so you're better off looking elsewhere."

"And what is it you want, sweet thing?"

"His boyfriend, you fucking prick," someone rumbles from behind Kyle, the crowd ebbing enough for a huge wall of a man to step into a minuscule gap by Steve's side. "Kindly fuck off."

Kyle looks about two seconds away from fighting him on it until he realizes just how massive the man is, all muscle and an intimidating biomech prosthetic. Steve takes the opportunity to tuck against the man's side, snug under his flesh-and-blood arm.

"Sorry I'm late, babe," his rescuer says. He doesn't break eye contact with Kyle. "Work was a bitch."

"Totally fine, hon. I understand how things can be, with your boss on you about the deadline."

The man holds him closer and glares at Kyle until the man all but bolts off into the crowd.

Steve's hero backs away, retrieving his arm from Steve's shoulders as soon as the coast is clear.

"Sorry if I overstepped. You seemed to need an out."

"I did. You saved me, and for that, you have my thanks. Steve Rogers."

For the first time, Steve gets to look at the hero in the face, a stubbly beautiful face with slate-gray eyes hiding under long hair.

"Bucky Barnes. Happy to help." Bucky seems to realize just how deep into the crowd he is. "I should... this is more people than I realized."

"One of the local queens is having her birthday show at midnight. No one wants to miss it." Steve pauses, thinks it over. "I could do with some dinner, though. Would you want to go to the diner on the corner with me? So I can thank you properly, I mean."

"If you insist," Bucky says, but a slight smile belies his gruff tone. "I could eat."

...

And so, over burgers and milkshakes, Steve coaxes a conversation out of Bucky.

He's a veteran, on a trial program for Stark Industries for the arm.

He doesn't talk much, but he's good at listening.

His ears pink up when Steve calls him doll sarcastically.

Steve is enamored.

"You'll have to show me your art some time," Bucky says after listening to Steve ramble about his latest project.

"Mr. Barnes, are you suggesting I invite you home to view my etchings?" Steve says with an obnoxious affectation.

Buckt rolls his eyes, but his smile is fond (small as it is).

"Don't play the ingenue, Steve. I've known you an hour, but I know you ain't innocent."

"True." Steve nudges Bucky's foot, small loafer connecting to enormous combat boot. "What about you? You innocent?"

"I do declare," Bucky drawls flatly.

"I bet you're more of an ingenue than I am. If I kiss you, would you swoon?"

"Would you catch me?"

And the visual should be insane, twinky, barely-regulated asthmatic Steve catching beefcake Bucky, but damn if it isn't a pleasant one.

"Every time, doll."

There's that blush, again. Steve pulls out enough cash to cover the tab and inclines his head toward the door.

"Come home with me? I can show you my etchings."

"Please."

...

Its only three blocks to Steve's apartment, but halfway there, Bucky gently entwines their fingers. Steve squeezes his hand tightly for a moment, anchoring the gesture.

He doesn't want to startle the fragile bond they're forging, doesn't want to scare Bucky off.

They get into his apartment, and Bucky leans fetchingly against the door once it's locked.

"Are you planning to swoon?" Steve teases, tossing his keys in the bowl and toeing off his loafers.

"Depends. Are you planning to kiss me?" Bucky bends his knees slightly. "You should. If you want to."

There's a hesitation in the gesture. Steve wants Bucky to be comfortable.

(Steve wants Bucky. Full stop.)

"I can do that." Steve gives him plenty of time to back out before leaning up on his tippy toes and kissing him on the lips. "You are entirely too tall for this, gorgeous."

"I could sit?"

"Good problem solving skills. Tactical know-how." Steve steps back, giving Bucky room to stand. "Couch, center cushion please."

Bucky does as he's told, and isn't that a heady feeling.

"Good, thank you." It incites another delicious blush. "Do you like it when I compliment you?"

Bucky nods. Steve only has to bend down a little to kiss him now, so he savors it.

"Do you like being sweet for me?"

"You should kiss me again," Bucky says, avoiding the question.

"You have the best ideas." Steve kisses him, longer this time, and it feels like kissing someone he's known forever, like he's spent a lifetime kissing him but it still isn't old. "You saved me from Kyle. You picked the maple bacon burger at the diner. You asked me to kiss you."

"I'm a regular tactical genius." Bucky places his right hand on Steve's hip and hesitates.

Steve gently takes his metal hand and places it on his other hip.

"You don't scare me," he murmurs into their next kiss.

"I should."

"You don't." Steve runs his fingers through Bucky's hair, teasing out a knot as he finds it. "I haven't known you long, but I can tell that behind this rough facade, you're a soft-hearted romantic, and probably a bit of a nerd based on your references."

"I'm very dangerous." Bucky kisses Steve's neck, smiling against his skin. "Terrifying even."

"Bullshit. You're just a sweet boy trying to act tough." Emboldened by Bucky's smile, Steve guides him back so he can straddle his lap. "A soft, gentle man who needs someone to take care of him. Am I wrong?"

Bucky hides his face against Steve's shoulder, shoulders trembling.

"Too far?" Steve asks, concerned for the first time since Bucky rescued him. "I can stop."

That earns him an almost-bruising grasp to his hips.

"Don't stop. Please." Bucky takes a deep breath. "Just been a long time, is all."

"Tell me if you need to stop for any reason. We aren't playing, but... stop me if you want to, okay?" Steve tips Bucky's chin up. "Promise me you'll tell me."

"I promise. I promise, I'll be good, I'll stop if I need to."

"Good boy. Good, sweet boy."

...

Complimenting Bucky is intoxicating. Every sweet word, every soft touch, sends him blushing and stuttering and shaking with emotion in the best way.

By the time they're in Steve's bed, mostly naked save Bucky's Henley and t-shirt, Steve is hard enough to pound nails.

"Okay, baby, can I take this off of you?" Steve plays with the hem of the Henley (the third of four layers, two of which were on the floor). "You can say no. I won't be disappointed."

Bucky takes several slow, deep breaths. It gives Steve time too cool off, some much-needed blood returning to his body.

(He may be healthier than when he was younger, but if he's too turned on for too long, he can get woozy. Blood flow is complicated and annoying.)

"I want you to take it all off me. Just... there's scarring."

"I'll be gentle." Steve takes the hem of both remaining shirts and slowly peels them off.

Bucky is beautiful. His muscles are padded with a protective layer that shows priority of use over aesthetics, and the arm is shiny and futuristic and yet somehow organically a part of his body.

There are scars covering the majority of Bucky's side, cuts from shrapnel from the IED that took his arm. Steve runs his fingers over him reverently.

"Beautiful. My sweet, beautiful boy."

Possessive language comes easy when the results are so illuminating.

Bucky's blush goes almost all the way down.

"Please."

"What do you want?"

"You." Bucky pulls Steve on top of him as he sinks into the duvet. "I want... I want you to fuck me. Please."

Fuck.

"Well, since you've asked so sweetly." Steve kisses him, taking up as much space as he can manage. Maybe, if he tries hard enough, he can block out the world.

Maybe he can make sure Bucky's eyes never get that haunted look he had in the club.

(When did he start thinking in absolutes? When did this go from a fuck to a future?)

(If he's being honest with himself, it started the moment Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulders at the bar.)

Steve takes his time working Bucky open.

"How long has it been?" He asks.

"Since I've done it? Days. Since anyone else has? Years." Bucky wraps thighs that could crush skulls around Steve's slender hips. "Fuck me, please, I want you inside."

It is possibly the most words the man had said since dinner. Steve cherishes every one.

Steve's own hand on his cock is almost too much as he rolls on the condom, slicks himself with lube, lines up the head of his cock with Bucky's hole. Bucky pulls him in with his legs, broad hands spanning his back.

Soon, they're closer than two people can be, yet Bucky wants him closer still.

"You've got to let me move, baby," Steve says roughly. "C'mon, be sweet for me."

That gets him enough slack to start to move in earnest, slowly at first but building to something almost untenable. Each stroke pulls a new sound from the man beneath him, each angle a new moan or whimper or whine.

This.

This is what Steve was looking for, something Kyle from the bar would never be able to offer him.

A genuine emotional connection with a man big enough to crush him who surrenders to him from respect alone.

It may be rare, but that makes this all the sweeter.

"Touch my cock, please, I need- fuck, I need-"

Steve wraps his hand around Bucky's cock, hissing when he clenches.

"Thank you. Thank you, Daddy, thank-" The sentence dies in Bucky's throat, smothered by embarrassment and a metal hand.

"You're so welcome, baby. Fuck, you're being so good for Daddy, so sweet."

If Steve dies tomorrow, it will be worth it to have seen the startled pleased shock spread across Bucky's face.

"M'good, Daddy?"

"You're so good, baby, so good for me."

It doesn't take long for Bucky to come, dragging Steve over the edge with him.

...

Bucky is quiet as Steve cleans them up. He's wrapped up in the blankets, Henley pulled back on for armor.

Steve crawls back into bed with water and some snacks, offering fruit to Bucky and waiting for him to eat it.

"Stay the night?" Steve asks quietly.

Bucky looks startled. Whoever it was that made this man think himself unworthy, Steve intends to hunt them down and string them up by their fucking toes.

"Really?"

"Really." Steve holds his arms out, waiting for Bucky to curl up with his head on Steve's chest. "We can take a nice hot shower, and I'll make you waffles. Or pancakes, if you want, but waffles are clearly superior."

Bucky settles, allowing Steve to relax beneath him.

"Maybe you can finally show me your etchings."

**Author's Note:**

> Is this a self-indulgent fluffy mess? Yes. Does it bring me joy? Also yes.  
> Tagging porn is weird as hell, by the way. Find me on tumblr at katbellewrites.


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